Chapter 16
For the next two weeks, Britt was floating close to cloud nine. She and Hunter continued their mutual lessons—she taught him
art and he taught her confidence. He’d even started arriving earlier at K&Bs so they could have lunch together in the education
room before instruction, and a few days ago they’d made a return appearance at Yo Jo’s. She’d managed to make it through Double
Shot Monday again and actually enjoyed herself.
Maude was all aflutter and did little to hide it. For once, Britt didn’t care. If her friend wanted to think she and Hunter
were an item, she could go right ahead.
Britt was wishing the same.
But she was also realistic. He hadn’t said or done anything to make her think he considered her anything more than a friend.
And she was okay with that. Sort of. It wasn’t his fault that the more she learned about him, the more she liked him. She found out his father was a lawyer and
his mother had been a stay-at-home mom all his life. He had two brothers and two sisters-in-law. He liked to run, swim, and
play football and basketball, although he rarely did the latter two. He wasn’t a great student, which was why he’d gotten
his GED.
Then there were the personal things. He revealed that he didn’t want to work at The Warehouse for the rest of his life, but he wasn’t sure what to do. “I guess I could try community college,” he’d said last week as they drank their decaf at Yo Jo’s. “It’s been years since I cracked a textbook, so I don’t know.”
“Is there anything you’re interested in?”
His gaze met hers, his gorgeous eyes turning bright. “Art, believe it or not. I really enjoy it. I’ve even been reading online
articles on classic painters during breaks at work. I’ll never understand Pollack or Picasso, though.”
“They’re an acquired taste,” she said.
“I don’t have a toothpick’s worth of skill or talent, but I think it will be a good hobby for me.”
“It could be more than a hobby, Hunter. You’re really good.”
He ducked his head. “Nah.”
His humility irked her a little. “Are you saying I don’t know what I’m talking about? That I can’t recognize good art when
I see it?”
His head jerked up. “No. I’m not saying that at all. It’s just hard to believe... Well, I can’t believe I’m good at anything
other than sports. And I’m so rusty now, I doubt I’d be competent at that either.”
This was a side of Hunter he rarely showed. But she knew it wasn’t an act. He quickly recovered by making a quip about being
a former jock, but his words stuck with her. Somehow, she’d have to convince him that he had talent. Raw, unformed talent,
but it was there.
The following Monday, they both sat down at the table while Maude prepared their usual snack. She’d been plying them with
various baked goods during their lessons, enough that Britt had started taking walks around the neighborhood in earnest, sometimes
with her mom. She still hadn’t told her about Dad, and that gnawed at her. But like Hunter said, she would know when the time
was right.
Britt set her huge canvas tote bag on the table as Hunter stood close by. He leaned in and tried to peek into the bag. She nudged him in the side and put her back to him, hiding the contents. “All will be revealed soon,” she said, smiling.
But it quickly faded when she realized her back was against his torso, and he wasn’t moving.
“Just a quick look?” he said, his mouth close to her ear.
A delicious shiver slid down her spine, making her forget her words.
“Fine,” he said, his tone still light as he stepped away. “I guess I’ll have to wait.”
She took in a breath, fighting for her composure. “Smart move,” she joked, but caught the shakiness in her voice. Nuts. She
was slipping into old nervous habits. But this uncomfortableness felt different. For some bizarre reason... it felt good.
Britt forced herself to be calm as she pulled out a round, sunshine-yellow portable Bluetooth speaker and set it on the table.
Hunter eyed it. “What’s this?”
“Today’s the day we will immerse ourselves in... yacht rock.”
“Aw man,” he whined. “Not that.”
She laughed as he pretended to pout. “You haven’t given it a proper chance.”
“I don’t have to. Can’t we compromise? Maybe some Van Halen ballads—”
“Those exist?”
“Not really, although they do have some lighter rock tunes.” He folded his hands into a pleading gesture. “Please, Ms. Branch.
Don’t do this to me.”
Britt picked up her phone and found her seventies playlist. “It’s either that or disco.”
He sat up straight. “Yacht rock it is. But next week we listen to my list.”
She nodded. “Fair enough.” She pressed Play, and a Christopher Cross tune filled the room.
“Oh, I love this song,” Maude said. “It’s from that movie... Drat, I can’t remember the name. But X and I used to dance
to it all the time.”
Britt had legit forgotten Maude was still here.
Maude strode toward them. Today’s caftan choice was beige with southwestern symbols scattered all over it. Her red glasses
hung around her neck, and she had her long, gray hair tucked under a sage-green turban. “Is Savannah going to have a band
at her wedding?”
Britt paused. “I don’t know. She hasn’t mentioned it.”
“She must be having some kind of music.” She glanced at Hunter, as if asking him for confirmation.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Don’t ask me. I haven’t met her yet.”
Britt looked at him, wondering if that was a hint that he wanted to meet her friend. She’d talked about her to him enough,
although she hadn’t said a word about him to Savannah. Maybe it was time for them to be introduced to each other. And she
would, soon. She started to reach into her bag to pull out the subject for her and Hunter’s next drawing.
“If she doesn’t have a band, then there will be a DJ,” Maude said with an emphatic nod. “And lots of dancing. But first there
will be the bridal party dance.”
Britt’s head snapped around. “What?”
“The dance where everyone in the party is announced. The maid of honor is paired with the best man... oh boy.” She hurried
to Britt’s side. “Are you okay?”
She tried to nod her head, but her nervous system had crashed to the floor. No one had said anything about a dance, especially not with a man and in front of a crowd. She could feel the color drain from her face.
Maude put her arm around her shoulders. “Didn’t Savannah tell you?”
“No.” She reached for her shirt hem, another thing she hadn’t done in a while.
“Maybe it’s just a northern thing,” Maude said quickly. “Or even just a Vermont thing.”
“What if it isn’t?” The pale-blue tank top she was wearing was cotton and didn’t have any stretch. When she pulled on it,
her straps dug into her shoulders. “I’ve never been to a dance... I don’t even know how to dance—”
She felt Hunter’s fingers clasp hers. “I do.”
***
Hunter held on to Britt’s hand, not caring if Maude was a witness or not. The second she mentioned dancing at the reception,
Britt’s face turned a grayish pale. If he hadn’t pulled her hand away from her shirt, she might have busted her tank top’s
thin straps.
“And I know how to dance too, sweetie.” Maude gave him a tiny nod, one Britt didn’t notice. “X isn’t too shabby on his feet
either.”
“Between the three of us,” Hunter said, running his thumb over the back of her hand, “we can teach you.”
“And you might not have to worry about it at all,” Maude said, her encouragement sounding a little desperate.
Britt looked up at Hunter with wide, vulnerable eyes. “I don’t want to be like this,” she whispered.
He knew exactly what she meant. Over the past two weeks she’d admitted more than once that anxiety was her enemy, and that she’d do anything to vanquish it. But nothing ever totally worked.
Maude dropped her arm from Britt’s shoulders. “Don’t worry sweet pea. You got this.” She walked over to the table where the
speaker sat next to Britt’s phone. “How do you work this thing?” Then a slow song filtered through the speaker, one he recognized.
Something about dreams, he thought.
“This one’s good.” Maude spun around and clapped her hands together as she walked over to them. “Hunter, you stand here.”
She moved him a couple inches to the right, so he was standing straight in front of her. “Britt, you move one step forward.”
Her eyes were still locked on his as she complied.
“Good. You’re both in position.”
Britt’s scared eyes widened even more.
“Maude?”
They all turned to see X poking his head into the room. “We’ve got a customer.”
“Can’t you see I’m busy, Xavier ?”
“She requested your help specifically. She has a long list of supplies for her project too.”
“Drat,” she said.
X’s bushy, gray brows arched. “We’ve got a customer on a Monday, and you’re upset about it?”
“No, but...” She glanced at Hunter and Britt and sighed. “Tell her I’ll be right there.” After he left, she leaned in close.
“I trust you two will figure this out.” She patted them on the shoulders, then wafted out of the room.
Hunter let go of Britt’s hand. “Okay, let’s—”
Click. The door latched shut.
Never change, Maude. He turned his full attention on Britt.
“I can’t do this, Hunter,” she said, moving away from him.
“Yes, you can.” He took her elbow and drew her close. “I’m not good at dancing, and you don’t have to be either. Almost nobody
is paying attention anyway. They’re all talking, laughing, hitting the bar... You get the point.”
He felt her arm loosen up a bit. “Really?”
“Really. Trust me, I’ve been to a few over the years.” Although, he’d never seen a bridal party dance together, so maybe Maude
was right that it was a northern thing. And of course he hadn’t been on his best behavior at any of the weddings he’d attended,
especially family ones. “Who’s the best man?” he asked. He almost didn’t want to know who would be dancing with her. He shoved
away the tiny arrow of jealousy piercing his heart. This was about Britt, not him.
“Justin’s brother. He’s older, in his mid-thirties. He’s been married for years.”
That was a relief. “Okay, so he’s someone you know. That helps.”
She nodded. “He’s really nice. Their whole family is.”
“See,” he said, grinning. “Nothing to worry about.”
The song ended and a jazz-infused tune started playing. He nodded with his head toward the speaker. “Got any other slow songs?”
“A few.” She went to her phone and started searching. Soon another ballad filled the room.
For a second, he thought he’d have to guide her away from the table, but she finally walked toward him and stood in the exact
place Maude had told her. “Now what?”
Now what, indeed . He took a step forward, telling himself that he was only going to show her how to dance—how to place her feet, where to put her hands...
His mouth turned to cotton. Don’t enjoy this... too much.
Hunter took her hand and slowly placed it on his shoulder, not wanting to startle her. Her fingers lightly rested there, and
he could feel the warmth of them through his black T-shirt.
She pulled away slightly and looked up at him, questioning in her eyes.
“It’s okay to touch me,” he said, his gaze not leaving hers. “I won’t bite.”
She let out a breath and returned her hand, applying a little more pressure.
“Good.” He tried not to notice how nice she smelled. Be real, she always smells nice. Or how the lights in the room brightened up her dark hair, which wasn’t pure black at all, but many shades of brown. Her
art lessons had taught him about seeing colors in a different way than he had before. “I’ll put my hand here.” He rested his
fingers lightly on the side of her hip, his palm spanning the curve.
Her gaze darted down to his hand and flew back up.
“Then I take your other hand in mine.” He scooped it up and threaded his fingers between hers. “And then we move a little.”
He nudged her hip ever so slightly, and as they started to sway, he could feel the tension in her body begin to melt away.
“See,” he murmured. “Piece of cake.”
She nodded, her gaze still locked on his. They moved tentatively to the music, then with a little more finesse.
After several seconds, he said, “You okay?”
“Yes.” Her voice held a husky tone he’d never heard from her before.
Every nerve in his body sparked. It’s just a dance... just a dance... But it wasn’t, not for him. And he wanted to be closer to her. Unable to stop himself, he said, “I can show you another way.”
***
Britt could barely breathe. She’d never danced with anyone before, so she didn’t have anything to compare her dance with Hunter
to. But she refused to believe she’d ever have a partner that could match him. Her fingers had been frozen in place on his
shoulder, but she could feel the hard muscle underneath them. Her other hand was getting damp as he held it, but he didn’t
seem to mind, and, miracles of miracles, she didn’t either. She didn’t want to do anything or be anywhere else other than
right here, dancing to decades-old music and gazing into Hunter Pickett’s eyes.
Suddenly he said, “I can show you another way.”
Her eyebrow raised, and he smiled, sending another shiver straight through her. “W-what do you mean?”
His eyes never leaving hers, they continued to gently sway as he moved his hand from her hip and took her hand from his shoulder,
placing it closer to his neck. He did the same with her other hand. Then he put both of his hands on her hips.
“My sixth-grade dance move.”
But his voice sounded deep. Raspy. Nothing like a kid and definitely all man.
“One more thing,” he said, the words barely audible. He moved his hands to clasp behind her lower back, resting just above
the waistband of her purple and white polka-dotted skirt. As he shifted position, he brought her closer until a slip of paper
wouldn’t fit between them.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
All she could do was nod. She didn’t understand why, but her hands instinctively locked together behind his neck. She tried not to notice how his soft hair brushed against the back of her hand, or how she could see the tiny scar at the corner of his left eyebrow that she’d never noticed before. “I guess I shouldn’t dance like this with Justin’s brother,” she said, surprised she was able to speak in a steady voice.
“You better not.” A smile played on his lips.
She was about to ask him why he was showing her this kind of dancing if she wasn’t going to do it at the wedding, but her
words caught in her throat. She didn’t need to ask, because the way he was looking at her told her everything she needed to
know... and she wasn’t imagining it this time.
The music stopped, but they didn’t. His hand moved from her lower back to reach up and cup her cheek. “Britt,” he whispered.
Her heart was hammering so hard she was sure the entire state of Texas heard it.
His other arm tightened its hold around her waist as his head tilted toward hers. He was going to kiss her, she was sure of
it. His eyes were closed, his mouth now inches from hers...
And all she could do was say, “Why?”
***
Hunter’s eyes flew open. What just happened? He was nose to nose with Britt, who was gaping at him with a mix of curiosity
and confusion. The haze of desire started to lift, and now he was a little confused himself. He pulled away but didn’t let
her go. “What?”
“Why are you going to kiss me?”
He blinked. Then reality hit him, hard. He almost kissed Britt. Not that he didn’t want to. He so, so, so definitely did. More than once, if she would have let him. He was surprised because he’d gotten so out of control.
Hunter moved away from her and put a decent amount of space between them. He shoveled his hand through his hair. “Britt, I’m—”
“You were going to kiss me, right?”
His eyes darted to hers. There was nothing he could do but admit the truth. “Yes. I was. And I’m sorry.”
“You are?”
“I respect you a lot—”
“I don’t feel disrespected, Hunter. I’m confused.”
He understood the feeling. “About what?”
She started to pull at the hem of her tank top, then shoved her hands behind her back. “I don’t understand why you’d want
to kiss me.”
Was she serious? One look at her expression, and he knew she was. “I, uh...” This was new territory. He’d never had to
explain his feelings. He just let his instincts take control, and the less talk the better. Never in his life had a female
asked him such a question. “Did you want to kiss me?”
Her cheeks instantly turned fuchsia, and she averted her gaze.
“Because it’s okay if you do.” He took a step forward, and when she didn’t jump back, he took another one. “I don’t want you
to think I’m using you.”
“For what?”
He couldn’t decide if she was really this na?ve, or if it was some kind of act. “To kiss you, make out with you, go to bed
with—”
“Whoa!” Her hands flew up, palms out.
“Because I’m not,” he said in a rush. “I promise that never crossed my mind. Well, maybe once or—”
“Hunter!”
He was messing this up, badly. If only he hadn’t given in to his impulses and tried to kiss her. She was starting to look
distressed, and he had to get back on better footing. To prove himself, he told the truth. “When your channel first popped
up in my feed, I thought you were cute, so I clicked on a video.”
Her eyes widened, but she still listened.
“And then I started watching more. I was fascinated by your lessons, how easily art came to you, how well you described things,
your creativity. That’s why I reached out to you. I wanted to let you know how much I appreciated what you do. I was completely
honest about that, and about wanting to make a change in my life. I...” He couldn’t unload everything on her now. “I needed
to do something different.
“And then we met and clicked. But you were wary, and you had a right to be. All I wanted was friendship, Britt. Or so I thought.”
Her expression was softening. “What changed?”
“Being around you. You’re not just cute, Ms. Branch.” He smiled, but not the cocky, manipulative one he’d used on women before.
This one was from the heart. “You’re adorable. And talented, intelligent, and fun.”
Shock registered on her face. “I’m fun?”
“Yes. When you’re working on something creative, or teaching, or feeling at ease, you’re a lot of fun. And even when you’re
anxious, I still want to be around you.” He shifted on his feet, hoping she took his words the way he intended them.
Britt didn’t say anything for a long moment. She wasn’t pulling on her shirt hem either. Then she suddenly moved closer and
peered up at him. “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”
“I’d say Scout’s honor, but I was never a Boy Scout.”
“I...” She lowered her head.
He took a chance and placed his fingertip under her chin and lifted it until he could meet her gaze. “You what?”
“I’m a mess.”
“So is everybody else.”
She frowned. “I’m weird.”
“Trust me, you’re not the weirdest person I ever met. Not by a long shot.”
“But you’re so gorgeous.”
He scoffed. “Being good-looking ain’t all that.”
She crossed her arms and smirked. “Oh, really.”
At least now she was relaxing a bit. “It’s a cross to bear,” he said, half exaggerating. “People make assumptions that you’re
shallow and self-centered.”
Her expression grew serious. “You’re neither of those, Hunter.”
I used to be. But to hear her say he wasn’t gave him hope. She was seeing him the way he wanted to be, and prayed he could continue to
be. He closed the final distance between them. “I like you, Britt. I like you as an artist, as a friend, and as someone I
really, really want to kiss. But only kiss,” he added, before she got rattled again. “I’m not that type of guy.” Anymore.
“I’ve never been kissed,” she whispered, looking away again.
He’d figured that much. “Whenever you want a lesson, I’m here for you.”
She laughed. “How noble.”
“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”
Her eyes danced. Then she touched his arm, and he wondered if she was aware that her fingers were moving over his skin with
slow, feather-light strokes. He held back a groan.
“What if I’m ready now?”
His neurons started firing again, a warm wave of happiness washing over him. He drew her in his arms, this time for real. “Then I, Mr. Pickett, am at your service.”
But he didn’t need words to instruct her. He tilted up her face and bent his head toward hers. When she closed her eyes, he
smiled, gently kissing her until she relaxed against him and started kissing him back... with relish .
And it was everything he dreamed it would be.